On Being a Youth Director

Page One

Nothing is better than watching a seventeen year old male youth, and popular high school senior, completely drop his guard and act the jester in a crowd of younger teens. Picture said youth, Mr. High and Mighty, Good Looking and Confident, squirming around on his stomach like a snake in front of his peers. It all went something like this:

The night starts as I drive four kids two hours down the highway for a conference. They are assigned to lead the opening services, so in our rush we miss dinner. When the youth portion of the conference begins, I allow those four teens grace time to gulp down some McDonalds. As a result, all walk in to games a wee bit late. Now, “Dude” walks in to the room seeing the other teenagers preparing for a game of Ducks, Butterflies, Snakes, and Pterodactyls (in this game, basically each person is assigned one of the four animals. When said animal is called, person must switch spots with another of the same animal...all while acting like assigned animal).

RW: Dude, join the game...yer a snake.
Dude: What's it do?
RW: It hisses and crawls across the floor on it’s stomach.
Dude: On it’s stomach!?
RW: Yea, *snicker* on its stomach.

Dude sees the smile on my face. Dude knows my sarcastic humor. Dude is not fazed by any of this. I call out "Snakes" just because I know he will do what I have instructed...not because he fears my reigning superiority, but because he knows the joke. So while everyone else is walking to their new space, hissing and using their arms for the snakey motion, Dude drops to the floor and squirms to his new spot. I love that kid. Sure enough, laughter erupts, and he wins gold stars for being such a ham.

Page Two

The mascot for youth ministry these days is the pterodactyl. Now, in your image, the pterodactyl is a flying sort of dinosaur with a long pointed head and massive bat like wings. But as the keeper of teens, and the player of “Pterodactyl,” this dino of yore would just as easily be associated with those little velociraptors from the movie “Jurassic Park.” (By the way, in this game you vocally pass around the word “Pterodactyl” or reverse the word by screeching like the dino, all while keeping your lips secure over your teeth. No teeth are allowed to be seen or you are a dead “Pterodactyl”…who COMES UP with these games!!!!)

When we play this game, the shield of inhibitions is removed and soon all kids are forming their own velociraptor-pterodactyl personalities. Again, examples:

“Dude” from page one and “Pooh-Bah” are in a screeching contest, serious and absurd, each wanting to succumb the other in fits of laughter. Arms are raised, eyes are bulging, mouths are open. Their lips are secure over their teeth making these two teenage boys resemble some form of toothless alien intent on making conversation but only peals of “GRRAAWWKKK” are emitting. Finally, after the battle cry is passed a few hundred times, each time growing in intensification, Dude succumbs, falls off his chair in a wide toothed grin, gripping his stomach in mock death…all while we adults wipe tears from our eyes.

“Tarv” is a tall lanky kid with a dry humor…I love dry humor. He is sitting back in his chair, legs outstretched, arms crossed, hat pulled low, hair sticking out in all directions. Pterodactyls come at him from all directions, the words, the screams, the outstretched arms…the boy is under attack from younger raptors. Yet, he passes the word with no emotion, and succeeds in causing peals of laughter from his unsuspecting neighbors, when he returns their “Pterodactyl” with a simple look and a nonchalant, “gaw.” Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Monotone-a-saurus.

Then there is “Dot,” the leader of this game. She bats her eyes, cozies up to her neighbor and coos: “Pterodactyl.” Watching this show, you envision in your mind a cartoon dinosaur complete with a giant bow and absurdly painted lips. But what really fits the bill is when Dot goes true to her feminine, dinosaur nature. She cozies up to her neighbor, bats those eyes, cunning as a siren. Then, as you expect her to pass the word, she lifts her arms and scares the pants off the poor kid with a screech fit for a banshee.

I love absurd games.

Page Three

Back at home, on a Sunday morning, we are standing around refreshments. During this time, I usually go around trying to convince youth to stay for Sunday School. This is always fun because their parents are all hovering around the food, antsy to slip out the front door once the start of classes is announced. I do not understand this habit…but what can I do.

So I am talking to “Smiles” (a kid no matter how much I fuss at him, he still comes out with a smile). I am trying to entice him to come upstairs for Sunday school. He is standing there with his dad watching me plead like I’m an organ monkey asking for change. I know I will not win them over. His excuse is priceless: “I have to go home to clean my room for the cleaning lady…”

Now excuse my soap box, but seriously…these thoughts cross my mind:
“The CLEANING LADY IS KEEPING YOU FROM SUNDAY SCHOOL!! What a biatch… Does she work on Sunday? It is presently 9:30 in the AM. Are you telling me an additional 45 minutes will make or break the clean room?? You will probably go home and play video games anyway until dinner time, not really cleaning your room until 9:30 tonight, right before you hit the hay for sleep!! Are you kidding me!!?? Your room is seriously so messy that you have got to jettison out by 10 am just to have enough time to clean!?!?”

Ok, enough. Like I said, I know I am not going win this one. So I small talk the dynamic father and son duo. The comment comes from my mouth, “Haha, you have to clean the room for the maid? I remember that from growing up…”

And snap. My mind has officially flown off to never, never land where I am a teenager and my mother is telling me to clean my room because: “the maid is coming.” My eyes glaze over as I remember arguing with her the absurdity of that comment. My mouth continues the oration of this story. My mind is so lost in translation, that editing my words has ceased…and I hear myself repeat to Smiles and his dad my mother’s response: “the maid can’t clean with all your crap lying around.”

Are you allowed to say “crap” at church?